Wall of Socks

Right now I am overwhelmed by almost everything in mylife. Some of this is good as I need momentum to get things done. I feel overwhelmed by my schedule working two jobs. I feel overwhelmed by my internship ending and the thought of having to find a nine to fiver. But most of all, I feel overwhelmed by the wall of socks at Patagonia.
I have managed to carve enough of a niche here in Chicago in the past three months that I hardly noticed that I had moved at all; that I had uprooted myself to move a thousand miles from home with no place to live and certainly no job. I’ve realized that having a bed to come home to and a task to do during the day are pretty essential. I have both of these things. I guess I am beyond survival and now have a life.
I am indecisive. This has long been established and almost accepted. Frequently, when asked a question, I immediately become a deer in the headlights. I am crippled by the flood of pros and cons for each option. I also have difficulty with verbal communication, especially when put on the spot. It’s not that I can’t find words, but that I find too many words. The reason I write well is because my hands can’t keep up with my brain so only some of the words make it onto the page. The physical act of writing forces my brain to slow down and come up for air. This has become all too clear to me recently as I have taken a sales job at a retail store. All day long I am asked technical questions as well as for my opinion. The store in which I work sells four thicknesses of long underwear, fifteen different ski jackets, ten different fleeces and about sixteen varieties of socks. This is an overwhelming amount of information to sort through for anyone, but for one such as myself, it can be down right paralyzing. When someone approaches me about a ski jacket my instinct is to find Kathleen or one of the other skiers in the room and ask them to show the customer what they will need for a ski trip. If an informed coworker is not within ear shot, my back up plan is to show the customer the full color, two page ski jacket spread on page eleven of the Fall catalog, page 40 of the Winter. Recently, however, I have decided to take on the challenge myself. It usually begins in fits and starts and proceeds to rambling peppered with mumbling.
One day as I was putting some oatmeal colored lightweight hiking socks, on our wall of socks which, by the way, consists of about 10 rows by nine columns, a man asked me if I worked here. I responded yes and he proceeded to ask me if I could help him find a pair of socks. I panicked, the display before me no longer a collage of colorful wool and cotton, but the glaring beams of a Peterbilt staring me down. I knew next to nothing about our socks and had all but forgotten we sold them. Normally at this point my default strategy would be to just start talking. I would describe one of the product’s features, ask the customer a question about what they were looking for, describe some more of the product’s features and completely confuse the customer. My technique differed only in duration, whether it was a painful five minutes of shuffling around the store desperate to find the product that would explain itself and save me, or whether I ripped the band-aid right off, admitting an early defeat and saying aloud to the customer, “I’ve confused you haven’t I?” This time, however, I looked at the towering wall of socks and noticed that they were arranged by row in descending order of thickness from silkweight to expedition weight. I stammered, preparing to inundate the man with sock features, throwing in bits and pieces as I went along, until I had virtually woven a pair of wool socks before his eyes, but something clicked for me. Instead, I began with, “Well, first we have four thicknesses: silkweight, lightweight, midweight and expedition weight.” “Midweight.” He responded. I was surprised by his quick decision and relieved that he didn’t probe me for further explanations about the thicknesses. “Next we have height- crew, ankle, and ped” I said. “How about crew.” He responded. My confidence grew, as my succinct explanations seemed to provide all the information this man needed to make a choice. “Then we have color and after that size.” “Black, Medium.” The man had a pair of socks in hand. I thanked him for helping me to take on the overwhelming wall of socks, practically crumbling before him as I the weight fell from my shoulders. Maybe if I was able to break down the wall of socks into manageable pieces, I could do that with other areas of my life too.